


Listen to Sense

by CorsetJinx



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, irritable pact partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is impossible to control the weather, no matter how much Caim might hate it. But he is human and prone to illness. Now if only he would actually listen to her they might get somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen to Sense

She doesn’t care for the way her pact-partner stares at her upon hearing her speak. It isn’t the first time he’s heard her talk, far from it by now actually. Yet still he stands there, dripping from the crown of his tousled head to his waterlogged boots as though complying with sense is utterly foreign to him.

She is inclined to believe it, considering what she has witnessed thus far.

As if in response, the touch of his mind filters through their link - too much indignation in her opinion, even for a human. He is ruffled under non-existent scales at her demand and wants her to know it.

Caim even goes so far as to drag his hand through the humid air in a cutting, dismissive gesture.

She finds it about as impressive as watching the bald priest in their group cower and whimper his prayers to uncaring gods - absolutely unbefitting one who has made a pact with her.

“You heard me, Caim. Take. It. Off. My fire will be more than enough to keep what illness you might catch otherwise at bay.” Angelus lowers her head just enough to prod at the dull, careworn metal of his breastplate with the ridge of her snout.

His eyes narrow, both at the heat of her breath and the nudge that rocks his balance.

She stares back with golden eyes, huffing as she draws back to settle into her preferred resting position.

“Very well. Catch cold, weak human. Know that I will not listen when you complain on the morrow.”

He scowls as she lays her head down, wings folding against her body.

As her eyes close she hears him start to tug off heavy layers of metal and cloth, feels him press against her for warmth like a hatchling.

With a snort Angelus stretches a wing over him so that the elements cannot disturb his rest during the night.

His clothes are dry come morning.


End file.
